


Night King

by ideliagirl



Series: Things you'd find north of the wall [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Joffrey is his own warning, Verbal Abuse, mild depictions of domestic violence, trigger warning-domestic violence, trigger warning-gun violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:10:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideliagirl/pseuds/ideliagirl
Summary: Call it the darkness before the dawn.Before Jon and Sansa could fall in love, they were best friends. And there had to be one Joffrey Baratheon.Jon, Robb and Margaery were there to help Sansa after she couldn't take him any more.Prequel to Three-Eyed Raven, and Frozen Heart, Rotting Soul.





	Night King

**Author's Note:**

> Set maybe a year before Three-Eyed Raven and about four years before Frozen Heart, Rotting Soul.
> 
> Please be advised of triggers for emotional/psychological abuse and attempted gun violence. Don't want to upset anyone, but Joffrey is one of the most vile creatures from the show and books for a reason.

 

Jon had been sitting in his office at Castle Black doing paperwork—unfortunately the only thing he’d been doing since an injury many months before had caused him to relinquish active duty—when his steward Olly had come in to tell him there was a call that was being patched in for him from King’s Landing.

A huge smile instantly formed on Jon’s face. He needed a break from the monotony, and since The Night’s Watch southern headquarters was in Winterfell—there was only one person who would be calling him from King’s Landing.

When the phone rang telling him his call was ready, Jon could barely contain his excitement. “Hey, this is a nice surprise.”

“Jon?”

“Oh, uh, Robb.” Jon chuckled under his breath. “Not the Stark I was expecting to hear. What are you doing in King’s Landing?”

“Visiting Margaery.” Came Robb’s worried voice. “It’s why I was here when the police called her apartment.”

Jon’s heart almost fell to the pit of his stomach. “What’s happened to Sansa?”

“Nothing.” Robb quickly soothed. “She’s not hurt. Well, aside from the finger bruises around her upper arm where he grabbed her.”

“Who grabbed her?” Jon almost shouted, but then winced because he already knew the answer. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Yeah, well, get in the fucking line.” Robb muttered under his breath, but then continued stronger. “But Sansa’s okay. Apparently, after Joffrey finally passed out, she walked into the police station on her own and that’s where she was when they called Margaery.”

Jon shook his head in confusion. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad she did, but why would Sansa go to the police if all he did was grab her upper arm?”

“She was shaken up pretty bad and had to get away from where it happened.” Robb exhaled loudly. “Jon, the police went to the apartment to investigate the claim.” His voice began to tremor slightly. “You see, Joffrey’s dad had given him this old hunting rifle and when the police got there they found a huge hole in the wall from a shotgun blast—right where Sansa said it would be—two feet above where she’d been sitting when he fired it.”

Jon was afraid he was gonna crush the phone’s receiver in his clenched fist. “I’m coming down there.”

“No. Sansa didn’t even want _me_ to know, Jon.” Rob informed, hurt evident in his voice. “That’s why she had them call Margaery. And we just hadn’t told anyone that I was gonna be there this weekend.”

“I don’t care.” Jon rasped through gritted teeth. “If you didn’t want me to come down there, then why did you call me?”

“I wanted to keep _breathing_.” Robb snickered darkly. “And Margaery and I knew when you finally found out what had happened and that I had known right away? You would have killed me for not calling you.”

“Well, I would have, so thank you for calling.” Jon admitted. “I’m still coming down.”

“You’ll be AWOL from The Watch.”

“Even on restricted duty, I’m still the Lord Commander. And I hate this job now anyway. Just let someone try to submit me for disciplinary action.”

 

 

Sansa sat on Margaery’s couch and waited anxiously for Robb and Margaery to return so she wouldn’t have to be alone in the apartment anymore. She knew Joffrey was too chicken-shit to try looking for her and even if he did, he’d definitely be too chicken-shit to try his hand at incurring Margaery’s wrath—but she still didn’t like being alone with her own thoughts. All she could hear without the hustle and bustle of Robb and Margaery nearby was the blast going off, and she could sometimes still feel phantom splinters of drywall falling on her face and into her hair.

The deranged look on Joffrey’s drunk face when she’d turned and seen him pointing the smoking gun at her _hadn’t_ scared her, though. It had just made her resolute in what she knew she had to do. Namely: gently pry it from his slackening fingers, sit calmly as he continued to gorge himself on wine until he passed out, grab her purse and walk into the nearest police station. She hadn’t even started to shake until she began to tell them what had happened.

They’d been fighting because he’d been angry at her for having dinner with her friend Shae. Even though he went out all the time without her, Joffrey didn’t like her to go out on her own unless it was to work or to events that he (meaning his mother) deemed worthy of a girlfriend seeking admittance to one of the country’s preeminent families.

She wondered what would have happened if she’d told him she no longer sought that admittance, and hadn’t wanted it for quite some time. He probably would’ve aimed lower and she’d be dead.

She also wondered what would’ve happened if she’d told him that along with Shae, she was having dinner with Shae’s boyfriend—Joffrey’s uncle Tyrion—who Joffrey despised but who Sansa loved dearly and had somehow always known was the only decent adult member of that wretched family. He probably would’ve opened a window and shot at half the people on the street, as well.

Margaery and Robb insisted that she remain home to relax and she’d agreed, not having the heart to tell them that she didn’t want to go out onto the streets of King’s Landing anyway, now or ever again. There was probably not a corner of the city she hadn’t either publicly or privately been paraded around as an accessory on Joffrey’s arm. And it made her shudder.

Now the city she’d once viewed as gleaming and extraordinary—and had loved while a student here—had lost all its shine for her. She hated the career she’d worked so hard for, and deep down had known she would all along. She also now knew that most of King’s Landing smiled to your face and drew their knives behind your back.

Since Margaery was leaving for Highgarden with Robb in tow, her friend and favorite Professor Barristan Selmy had taken a job in Essos, and Shae was moving to live with Tyrion in Casterly Rock, there was probably nothing in the world that could entice her to stay now.

In truth, the shot Joffrey fired above her head had been a good thing. Perhaps she’d one day have to find him and return the fucking favor.

She heard the lock turn and closed her eyes, steeling herself before looking behind her at the door. “That was a long damn time just to get groceries. I thought you’d gotten lost.”

“Well, we didn’t just get groceries.” Margaery admitted, walking through the door first with the produce bags in her arms. “We also went to the airport.”

And right behind Robb……in walked Jon Snow.

Sansa shook her head, trying to stave off tears. “I told you not to call him.”

Jon dropped his duffle on the floor and immediately walked to the sofa to sit next to her. “Yeah, that didn’t work out so well.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And why didn’t you want them to call me, Sansa Lyarra Stark?”

She refused to look at him. “I didn’t want you to see me while I was weak.”

“Oh, I forgot we never show each other weakness.” He chuckled dryly. “Must be memory loss from the time I was injured and evac’d from The Wall to Last Hearth Memorial Hospital. Where I lay unconscious for three days only to wake up and find you’d flown in from King’s Landing to sleep in the plastic chair next to my bed the whole time.”

“That was different.” A traitorous tear fell down her cheek. “All you were was brave, Jon, and that still happened to you. Me? I was just blind, and a stupid, stupid girl. I _let_ this happen to me.”

“Why? Because you trusted that someone who was supposed to care about you wouldn’t hurt you?” He lifted her chin. “People who care about you aren’t _supposed to hurt you,_ Sans _.”_

She began crying outright. “See? But I _know that_. Through you, and Robb, and Margaery, and Mom and Dad, even Arya.” She took a deep shuddering breath. “It was _never_ like that with Joffrey—and I knew it never would be—but I stayed anyway.”

“You want me to say you made a mistake staying with him?” Jon shrugged. “Fine. You made a mistake staying with him.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his hand to wipe the tears off her face. “But I’m not gonna let you do this self-blame thing to yourself—and nobody else is either.”

“That’s right, Sans!” Robb called from the other room.

“Stop listening to our conversation, Robb!” Sansa laughed shakily.

Jon took her face in his hands. “ _Joffrey’s_ the asshole.”

“He’s such an asshole!” Margaery called out from the kitchen as well.

“Mind your own business, you guys!” Jon shouted at them, but wearing a grin.

Sansa looked Jon in the eye and nodded, both to him and to herself. “Joffrey’s the asshole.”

“Okay.” Jon began, holding out his arms. “I've been freaking out since I got Robb's call, so I’m gonna hug you now, Stark. And I’m probably not gonna stop for two or three hours.”

Sansa leaned into him and let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding when she felt those arms encircle her fully. “I could kill you for coming—but I’m glad you did, Snow.”

“Hey!” They heard a voice shout from the kitchen. “Can we get a three-hour hug, too?!”

Sansa turned her head from its place on Jon’s shoulder and chuckled. “Okay, seriously, what’s wrong with you guys?”

 

 

“He’s really not gonna be charged with anything?”

“Nope.” Robb told them with numb resignation while he, Margaery and Jon worked in the apartment Sansa had shared with Joffrey. “He claimed it went off accidently after a few glasses of wine. They were gonna charge him with Intoxicated and Improper Discharge of a Firearm, but when Robert Baratheon walks into your precinct and speaks to you personally and privately, you get star struck.”

Margaery sighed deeply, looking at the hole in the wall that was still there. “So injustice once again rears its ugly head in King’s Landing.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jon shouted to them from the other room. “Once we’re all out of here the day after tomorrow, we’ll never have to worry about it again.”

“Okay, I talked to the moving company. When they’re done putting all my stuff into the truck to Highgarden, they’ll send someone to get Sansa’s belongings that we’re bringing back my apartment and ship them to Winterfell.” Margaery narrated as she put packing tape over the last of Sansa’s boxes.

“And,” Robb continued. “Mom and Dad are happy to have you at the house for a few days if you’ll fly home with her.”

“Yeah, of course I will.” Jon told them, bringing what he knew to be Sansa’s favorite painting out into the living room to put next to the rest of her stuff. “I think that’s all of it. Now, let’s just get out of here before the Prince of Douchebag gets home.”

Just as he said it, they heard the door unlock and all let out a collective groan.

“Well, well.” Joffrey began as he walked in the door. “If it isn’t the northern losers and the slut who loves them.”

Robb started for him, but Margaery held her hand to his chest, blocking him. “Don’t, baby. He’s _absolutely_ not worth it.”

“Come to collect your bitch sister’s things, eh, Stark?” He snorted, looking down at the boxes. “Don’t know why you bothered, they’re not worth anything. Except maybe her garbage is sentimental for you, having nothing else of value while you grew up in that frozen wasteland you call home.”

“Sentimentality must be hard for you to grasp,” Margaery looked Joffrey dead in the eye. “Not having a soul and all.”

“Should’ve tossed them out on the street and set them on fire.” He spit out, kicking them lightly with his foot. “What is it with you now hitching yourself to these northern scum, Tyrell? Spent so long with the fags in The Reach you’re willing to fuck anything with a cock that wants to fuck you too?”

Robb looked at Jon and Margaery. “Let’s get this stuff up and out the door.”

“And you,” Joffrey finally turned his attention to Jon. “How’d I know that all Sansa’d have to do was sob into the phone and you’d come running, Snow?”

“Oh, I don’t know, _Lannister_.” Jon mocked, referring to the gossip that Joffrey’s mother and grandfather always tried to stomp out. “Maybe because I actually care about her?”

“You’re a fool.” Joffrey hissed, getting in Jon’s face. “And you’ll be an even bigger fool when she comes running back to me. If I even want her again.” He laughed derisively. “But she’ll never want you—not to be anything other than her best _girlfriend_. Not after she’s had me.” He looked to all three of them, still sniggering. “You should have heard the way she’d cry out for me, begging me not to stop fucking her.”

“I’m sure a lot of girls cry when they’re with you,” Robb hissed. “But you can’t expect us to believe it’s for you  _not_ to stop fucking them.”

“Fuck you, Stark! Go back to your pathetic life.” He screamed and then pointed at Margaery. “And take your whore with you.”

Margaery and Robb started for the door, not taking the bait. “Come on, Jon.”

Joffrey stood in front of Jon, blocking him. “Sansa’s trash, but even the trash she is, she’ll always be too good for a bastard orphan foot soldier like you.”

“If Sansa’s too good for Jon,” Margaery finally did come stand behind Joffrey. “Then she’s _ten thousand times out of your league_. You wanna know why I chose to bind myself to the Starks? Because _I_ _know_ _you_ , Joffrey, and I _know your kind_. And for so long I thought that was all I had as an option for me.” She pulled Robb to her when Joffrey turned, sneering. “I nearly wept with joy when I found decent, caring, respectful and honest people out there who would love me for me. Sansa grew up with that, but she got lost because of you, your empty promises and your fake endearments…….and she forgot for a while. She remembers again now—and she won’t ever look back.”

Robb opened the door while Jon and Margaery picked up the boxes Robb didn’t have. “The filthiest whores in Flea Bottom are too good for you. And if you didn’t pay them so much with your granddaddy’s money, they’d tell you that too.” He could barely contain his revulsion. “You’re evil for the way you treated my sweet sister, and I don’t just mean the shotgun blast above her head. You think because your family owns a car company that you’re some sort of king, but you’re not. And if you are, you’re a mad, vile king who sucks the life out of anything bright and warm, darkening everything around him.”

Robb and Margaery went into the hallway leaving Jon still near the door. Joffrey followed after him, putting his finger in Jon’s face. “When Sansa comes crawling back, the first thing I’ll do is make her cut you all out of her life. Then I’ll make her sorry she ever left.”

“Stay away from her.” Jon growled softly. “If you don’t, you’ll have to answer to me.”

“And me.” Robb added strongly.

“And me.” Margaery added too, even stronger.

“Oh yeah?” Joffrey sneered in Jon’s face. “What'll _you_  do about it?”

Jon calmly put down his boxes and then with a strength few knew he possessed, grabbed Joffrey by the throat, slamming him against and halfway up the entry wall. “You come near her, or call her, or bother her in any way, or even _think_ about her too loudly in that repulsive little head of yours—I’ll cut your tongue out with my service knife and slit you open from your throat to your balls so you can watch your insides seep from your body and onto the floor.” Jon let him slide back down, whimpering like a scolded three-year-old, and picked up the boxes again, walking out into the hall. “That’s what I’ll do.”

Joffrey was still sniveling, curled around himself on the floor when Robb slammed the door shut.

 

 

“Hey.” Sansa greeted them at the door when they came back. Nervous, but smiling genuinely. “Thank you for getting my stuff.”

“Sans,” Margaery smiled, putting her load of boxes down and taking Sansa’s hand. “For the millionth time, we were happy to do it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t go with you.” Sansa bit her lip as Jon came in the door, Robb right behind him.

Robb smiled too, shutting the door behind him with his foot. “Little sister, we’d do anything for you, you know that.”

“I was worried that Joffrey might be a problem.” She admitted to Jon as he put down what he carried.

“I promise you,” Jon started, lightly kissing her forehead. “Joffrey’s never gonna be a problem again.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this and the other works in the series.


End file.
